


Skill

by zarabithia



Category: Birds of Prey (Comic), DCU - Comicverse, Marvel 616
Genre: Community: heroines_fest, F/F, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-15
Updated: 2009-10-15
Packaged: 2017-10-11 14:24:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/113368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarabithia/pseuds/zarabithia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Waiting is the hardest part of being Dinah's partner. Written for the prompt of: "Oracle sends Black Canary to face Elektra. Babs POV."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skill

  
Officially, I've never had any dealings with Elektra before.

That doesn't make her a stranger to my city. Elektra has no conception of boundaries, either morally or geographically. The world, and everyone in it, is expendable and she is willing to dispose of anyone who might ever get in the way of her ethically flexible actions.

At least, that is what her reputation says about her. Officially.

It is because of that reputation that Elektra always had a secure spot alongside the ranks of a small percentage of Rogues that Batgirl and Robin were never allowed to engage solo.

Oh, sure. Dick and I rarely, if ever, listened to Batman, back then. He hadn't yet developed that crusty shell that makes him so infuriating now - the one where he automatically demands you hand in your cape when you defy an order passed down by the Bat God. He was alternatively Dick's loving father figure and big brother, and my useful uncle. Either way, he was on our side, the way that neither Dick, Tim, Cassandra, Stephanie, or I can ever be certain that he is these days. At least, not one hundred percent.

But those days, before the Joker took my legs and Jason's life, Bruce had been easier to push. At least, that had been the case if you were in the inner circle, and Batgirl might never have been his sidekick (and she _wasn't_), but she'd _always_ been in the inner circle.

I miss that position, some days. Some days, when he's pushing so hard against all of us trying to make our city, and our world, a better place, I miss being able to have that comradely that we used to share. I suppose I always will, no matter what other friends and allegiances I make. And I have made the very best of friends - the sort that would make Batgirl's toes curl in her little yellow boots with envy.

That position - as Batman's colleague - allowed both Robin and I the freedom to push the established boundaries that Batman set for us. I remain proud of the fact that I pushed them far more than Dick ever let himself. But there were some threats that Batman simply wouldn't allow us to push the boundaries on.

Elektra has always been on the exception list. She was one of a handful of criminals that, had Batgirl ever gone against her, would have resulted in my father receiving a telephone call about my nightly activities immediately. That particularly threat of Batman's, unlike so many others, came stated, not implied.

But there is one sentiment that has always been shared by the inner circle I will always have ties to. Whether sighed by Alfred, noted by Bruce, muttered by Dick, shouted by Jason, groaned by Tim, exclaimed by Stephanie, stated by Cassandra, or cackled by those that seek to harm us, the sentiment remains the same: Gotham has no sympathy for your plans. In fact, our city has always done its best to ruin our plans.

It's difficult, fighting not only a villain who wants you dead, but a city who seems to take a vested interest in your downfall at the same time. But the best of us never give up trying, even when it feels like the city has us down for the count.

Even Batman falls prey to the ruthlessness our city can possess at times, and both Gotham and Elektra had joined forces to knock the mighty Bat out of commission on the night that I unofficially met Elektra the first time. With Robin away with the Titans, there hadn't been much choice in what I did next. Batman's threat loomed large, but the brightness of Elektra's blade shown far more brightly.

I remain horrified at the sheer ineptitude that I must have displayed. But at the time, I would have called it bravery. Either way, Elektra used the "distraction" I provided to deal a blow enough to knock Batman completely unconscious.

It's a terrifying image, seeing someone you know has more training and more ability than you fall, when you are certain their adversary is about to finish them in. That was the feeling I had, watching Batman collapse on that rooftop.

That feeling was quickly replaced by an even greater sense of terror, as Elektra leapt with the speed and accuracy that would have made Flash or Superman jealous and pinned me to the side of rooftop with her blades against my throat.

I know now that every hero has to be willing to give up their life. I know now that such a sacrifice is part of the deal that we make when we sign on. And on a purely theoretical level, I understood and had agreed to that deal at the time.

But no matter how bright or determined of a teenager a person might be, no one is ready to give their life away before they're even legally old enough to drink. I'm not ashamed to admit that I was terrified, because I'd looked into a lot of eyes of villains before, but never had I seen any quite like Elektra's. I'd seen hate and crazed paranoia, anger and fear; in Elektra, all I saw was calm determination.

And just as easily and quickly as she'd pinned me, the look in her eyes turned to disgust.

"A child," she'd mocked, and the contempt in her voice I'd known even then wasn't reserved just for me, but for Batman, our city, and the entire hero side of the mission.

I'd tried to fight back when she began speaking. I'd looked for an opening that distraction sometimes causes. But even when Elektra's eyes held disgust, the determination in her arms did not waver.

"You risk your life for him. It's always like the red-heads to be sentimental. But you should know, little one, such sentiment only makes you weak." The determination in those arms shifted, and I knew, even though I couldn't move, that she wasn't going to kill me then. She'd already deemed me not worthy of the effort. Never again would something be such a sting and relief at the same time. "Remember that lesson, little one, because if you survive to adulthood on these rooftops, it will prove to be a valuable one."

She kicked me then, so hard that my vision swam. By the time I could see normally again, she was gone and Batman needed a lift back to the cave. I lied to him that night, and told him that I'd come across him while he was unconscious. I don't know if he believed me, but either way, he let it go.

I haven't seen Elektra since, in person. Whatever brought her into Gotham that night had been fleeting, and she'd apparently decided to go back to being Daredevil's problem. I haven't spared her much thought over the years - Gotham's problems and my own problems have been large enough that I haven't had that luxury.

But tonight, the red in her costume shines particularly bright in my memories and the memory of the blades press coolly against my throat until the mere act of breathing becomes physically difficult.

Tonight is, in many ways, my rematch with Elektra. But this Batgirl handed in her boots long ago, and in her place, I send the woman who is my lover and best friend. I know she is good, and better on her feet than I ever was. With her canary cry, she's a far more formidable opponent than I ever could have become. Still, I should be there, at her side, fighting along _with_ her.

But I can't. It's all up to Dinah.

It's not Dinah's skills that have me double checking reports of encounters with Elektra over the past ten years, looking for some sort of weaknesses I've missed. It's not Dinah's skills that have me mapping and remapping routes to the nearby hospital with each successive blow I hear. It's not Dinah's skills that have me squeezing the Batgirl plushy helplessly with all my might in one hand.

I have all the confidence in the world in Dinah's abilities. But I also know that a woman as good as Elektra hasn't been slouching all these years. She's been honing her skills, and making herself an even more adept fighter than she already was.

But Dinah's skills _are_ the reason that my shoulders slump with relief when the battle is over.

As my worst fears go unconfirmed, I glance down at the battered plushy in my hand and realize just how wrong Elektra was during our last meeting. Sentiment has never made me _weak_.

It's the only way I've ever beaten her and I know that too is due to Dinah's skills.


End file.
